They strolled forth into the street. The fall of the house, like the loss of a front tooth, had quite transformed the village. Through the gap the eye commanded a great stretch of open snowy country, and the place shrank in comparison. It was like a room with an open door. The sentinel stood by the green gate, looking very red and cold, but he had a pleasant word for the Doctor and his wealthy kinsman. Casimir looked at the mound of ruins, he tried the quality of the tarpaulin. “H’m,” he said, “I hope the cellar arch has stood. If it has, my good brother, I will give you a good price for the wines.” “We shall start digging to-morrow,” said the sentry. “There is no more fear of snow.” “My friend,” returned Casimir sententiously, “you had better wait till you get paid.” The Doctor winced, and began dragging his offensive brother-in-law towards Tentaillon’s. In the house there would be fewer auditors, and these already in the secret of his fall. “Hullo!” cried Casimir, “there goes the stable-boy with his luggage; no, egad, he is taking it into the inn.” And sure enough, Jean-Marie was seen to cross the snowy street and enter Tentaillon’s, staggering under a large hamper. The Doctor stopped with a sudden, wild hope. “What can he have?” he said. “Let us go and see.” And he hurried on. “His luggage, to be sure,” answered Casimir. “He is on the move—thanks to the commercial imagination.” “I have not seen that hamper for—for ever so long,” remarked the Doctor. “Nor will you see it much longer,” chuckled Casimir; “unless, indeed, we interfere. And by the way, I insist on an examination.” “You will not require,” said Desprez, positively with a sob; and, casting a moist, triumphant glance at Casimir, he began to run. “What the devil is up with him, I wonder?” Casimir reflected; and then, curiosity taking the upper hand, he followed the Doctor’s example and took to his heels. The hamper was so heavy and large, and Jean-Marie himself so little and so weary, that it had taken him a great while to bundle it upstairs to the Desprez’ private room; and he had just set it down on the floor in front of Anastasie, when the Doctor arrived, and was closely followed by the man of business. Boy and hamper were both in a most sorry plight; for the one had passed four months underground in a certain cave on the way to Acheres, and the other had run about five miles as hard as his legs would carry him, half that distance under a staggering weight. “Jean-Marie,” cried the Doctor, in a voice that was only too seraphic to be called hysterical, “is it—? It is!” he cried. “O, my son, my son!” And he sat down upon the hamper and sobbed like a little child. “You will not go to Paris now,” said Jean-Marie sheepishly.